I am still writing to you from England, my dear friend. Since my last letter (end of December, I think) I have completed my tour of the three kingdoms (by which I lose, by the way, 1000 pounds sterling net, on 1500 pounds which my engagement brought me!), have ploughed my way through Belgium, with which I have every reason to be satisfied, and have sauntered about in Paris for six weeks. This latter, I don't hide it from you, has been a real satisfaction to my self-love. On arriving there I compared myself (pretty reasonably, it seems to me) to a man playing ecarte for the fifth point. Well, I have had king and vole,—seven points rather than five! [The "fifth" is the highest in this game, so Liszt means that he won.]
My two concerts alone, and especially the third, at the Conservatoire, for the Beethoven Monument, are concerts out of the ordinary run, such as I only can give in Europe at the present moment.
The accounts in the papers can only have given you a very incomplete idea. Without self-conceit or any illusion, I think I may say that never has so striking an effect, so complete and so irresistible, been produced by an instrumentalist in Paris.
A propos of newspapers, I am sending you, following this, the article which Fetis (formerly my most redoubtable antagonist) has just published in the "Gazette Musicale". It is written very cleverly, and summarises the question well. If Fischhof [A musician, a Professor at the Vienna Conservatorium.] translated it for Bauerle [Editor of the Theater-Zeitung (Theatrical Times).] it would make a good effect, I fancy. However, do what you like with it.
I shall certainly be on the Rhine towards the end of July, and shall remain in that neighborhood till September. If Fischhof came there I should be delighted to see him and have a talk with him. Till then give him my most affectionate compliments, and tell him to write me a few lines before he starts.
In November I shall start for Berlin, and shall pass the whole of next winter in Russia.
Haslinger's behaviour to me is more than inexcusable. The dear man is doing a stupidity of which he will repent soon. Never mind; I will not forget how devoted he was to me during my first stay in Vienna.
Would you believe that he has not sent me a word in reply to four consecutive letters I have written to him? If you pass by Graben will you be so kind as to tell him that I shall not write to him any more, but that I expect from him, as an honest man of business, if not as a friend, a line to tell me the fate of two manuscripts ("Hongroises," and "Canzone Veneziane") which I sent him.
I have just discovered a new mine of "Fantaisies"—and I am working it hard. "Norma," "Don Juan," "Sonnambula," "Maometto," and "Moise" heaped one on the top of the other, and "Freischutz" and "Robert le Diable" are pieces of 96, and even of 200, like the old canons of the Republic of Geneva, I think. When I have positively finished my European tour I shall come and play them to you in Vienna, and however tired they may be there of having applauded me so much, I still feel the power to move this public, so intelligent and so thoroughly appreciative,—a public which I have always considered as the born judge of a pianist.
Adieu, my dear Lowy—write soon, and address, till June 15th, at 18, Great Marlborough Street, and after that Paris.